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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442353">Purple Roses Mean Mystery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBandit/pseuds/DragonBandit'>DragonBandit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kaleidotrope (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Identity Reveal, M/M, Pining, The Rose Dance, Universe Alteration - No Sidlesmith Valentine, secret identity shenanigans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:15:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBandit/pseuds/DragonBandit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a bullet journal," Harrison says. "It's my Capture Cal Bullet Journal."</p><p>"What."</p><p>Or:</p><p>There is no Fateful Librarian Interview. Harrison interprets Drew's advice to mean that he should go after his own tropes. Somehow this leads to him searching for Cal. Drew, understandably, panics.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Drew/Harrison (Kaleidotrope)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Purple Roses Mean Mystery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harrison scrunches up his nose. “I don’t get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should really do something about your musical theatre references,” Drew says, a teasing smile on his lips that he’s sure can be heard by their audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison returns his smile. “Well, the ball’s in your court, Mr. Don’t Rain On My Parade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Drew swallows, trepidation thick in his throat. He can see the shape of this now, inviting Harrison over to his dorm room, the two of them curling up on his bed so that they can both see the telly. One thing leading to another. Drew’s hand lacing through Harrison’s, maybe leaning against his shoulder, perhaps even a kiss or two if Harrison wants it. “Well, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—if you’re not doing anything tomorrow night. Maybe—” His phone interrupts him before he finishes and Drew lunges for it, simultaneously relieved and annoyed. He clears his throat for a second time, “Dear Drew And Franz, so my friend told me to text into the show because if she has to listen to my relationship drama one more time she’s seriously going to throw me out of the window. Her words not mine, it’s not a relationship really it’s just me and this guy. I think he’s my friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew scrolls down his phone. “This is a long text. With a lot of question marks in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Read it, read it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew does. “So I’ve been hooking up with his guy. He’s gay. I’m not. But then my best friend and I got to talking about it and I realised that I kind of care about him way more than other people. But that’s normal right? It’s normal to care about your friends. It doesn’t have to mean it’s romantic. We’re just having sex because it feels good, and we’re bro’s doing bro things. It’s a bromance! That’s it! Right??? But when I said this to my bro he got real quiet and kind of angry at me and I don’t know why and I don’t know how to fix it. Help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew lowers his phone, and shares an incredulous look with Harrison, who has a hand over his mouth and is visibly struggling to keep it together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right!” Harrison says, “so how many times did you say you had sex again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long for the next text to arrive, and Drew dutifully reads out “13.” He has to stifle laughter. This time Harrison doesn’t bother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Drew says, drawing out the word as Harrison continues to stifle laughter and excited squeeling. “Your friend’s right, that’s not technically a bromance. Harrison, care to weigh in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison takes his hand out of his mouth, and says “Just tell him that you love him! Oh my god, you do don’t you? That’s what you’re feeling!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew shakes his head. Sometimes he really does wonder about the other people he goes to school with. He says, “What my co host means…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Harrison continues to giggle and correct Drew’s advice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the broadcast, Harrison catches his shoulder. “Hey, about earlier. What were you going to say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Oh. Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Drew says, his mettle completely evaporated. What was he thinking anyway. There’s no way that Harrison would actually enjoy going on a date with him. Even if that had been where the conversation was going, and Drew’s had half an hour to realise that it wasn’t. The only date on the table had been the one in Drew’s imagination.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He misses Harrison’s flash of disappointment. “Well, if you say so. See you next week then. Have fun watching your show.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. Thank you.” It isn’t meant to sound like a question, but it does. “Have a good weekend yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison hums, not replying, and Drew doesn’t understand the pit digging it’s way through his stomach until he writes his cacophony of feelings down. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next week Harrison goes by Shosta, which at least is better than Rav. Anything is better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rav</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The show is off to a good start, with all their regular listeners updating Harrison and Drew on their various relationship dramas. Lovejoy and Stanwyck have reached a truce, The library book will be shared between the feuding parties, the OT3 is going to go on their first date on the weekend. Disaster, however, strikes halfway through the show, when Harrison gets a text from Lisa, the quarterback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh no,” Harrison moans, “Sam didn’t get with her OTP. Her wide receiver’s in love with someone else, This is a disaster! What is she going to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, it can’t be that bad” Drew tries to reassure, his palms itching with the want to touch Harrison shoulder, provide a physical comfort. He doesn’t.  It would be weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is!” Harrison says, “Drew! Her trope didn’t work. That’s impossible!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not impossible. It happens sometimes.” He scrambles for something to say. Being rational isn’t making Harrison’s eyes stop misting over with tears. “Maybe this just wasn’t her trope, okay? That happens sometimes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison’s distraught expression wanes slightly. Drew feels something in his chest lurch. He’s really going to have to do something about that before it makes a fool of him. “You’re right. It must not have been the right trope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so if Sam’s trope isn’t any of the wide receivers, what could it be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean,” Drew starts, and stops because he can’t believe this is something he has to genuinely say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes? Do you have an idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe she just needs to… keep looking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep looking?” Harrison asks. It shouldn’t be adorable how perplexed he looks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Like, I don’t know, she… meets some people who aren’t wide receivers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean the cheerleaders?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean other people. She meets new people. She could have a completely different trope waiting out there for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you believe that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I would call it a “trope,” but, like, yeah, you never know who you’re going to meet and when and how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meet-cute,” Harrison says, realisation dawning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might not have a meet-cute. Not everybody has a meet-cute,” Drew says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everybody at Sidlesmith has a meet-cute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you had a meet-cute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Low blow, Andrew.” Harrison says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t—I didn’t mean it like that—” Drew hastens to remedy. He knows that right now his usual cynicism isn’t realistic, it’s just mean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact, no. I haven’t had a meet-cute. Yet!” Harrison sticks his finger up and Drew belatedly realises that he’s being subtly teased. “But it’s only a matter of time right? Everyone here at Sidlesmith gets a happy ending eventually. There’s a Sidlesmith Valentine waiting for everybody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew says, only a little bitterly, “I’m sure all the ones who are looking for such a thing do.” This ridiculous school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying that I won’t get a meet-cute?” The level of horror Harrison puts into his voice is sort of adorable, and Drew hates himself for noticing. He’s still playing around; Drew can see the joke crinkling at the edges of Harrison’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying that it’s a bit unrealistic to expect one to just fall into your lap.” Drew says. “That’s not how relationships work. Not even at Sidlesmith. You do eventually have to go out of your comfort zone and meet new people. See where things go, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison hums, “So what you’re saying is that our dear listeners should search for their tropes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t like the look in Harrison’s eyes after he says that but there’s no where to backtrack to. Even if there was, he’s not sure he wants to. In general that’s what he believes. If you want something, you have to go out and actually get it instead of relying on whatever it is to magically happen. People, relationships, jobs, it’s all the same. Waiting just leads to disappointment. Of course so does running full pelt and being inevitably disappointed when you reach the other side of the rainbow and find out what you thought was gold was actually a steaming pile of shit the whole time. That’s why Drew tells all their listeners to be cautious, to think things through; look before they leap. Go for something, but for God’s sake, </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison just says, “Well now that that’s settled, it’s time for the debate section of our show isn’t it?” At Drew’s nod he continues,” Do any of out wonderful listeners have a debate for the two of us? So long as it’s nothing to do with Moffat again. I can’t stand thinking about that man now that he’s ruined the bi-con Dracula for the world.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their listeners do have a topic for the two of them, and he and Harrison cheerfully debate the merits of the actual Dracula. Which Drew has read, and Harrison has watched many, many movies about. The conversation of before completely slipping out of Drew’s mind as he regales Harrison of the state of the Literature scene when Dracula was being written.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Announcements,” Drew says, to start wrapping up the show, “we have a few of those don’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right, let’s see…” The two of them pore over the emails that now gets sent to both their phones instead of just Drew’s. “The Campus Neighbourhood Team would like to remind students that while declarations of love via boombox are romantic, they also violate the agreed community guidelines you signed at your lease and should be contained to hours when most of the campus isn’t sleeping…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestures at Harrison, knowing that he’ll vastly enjoy talking about the next bullet point more than Drew will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Everyone, the rose dance is coming up! Everyone remember to get your roses before the big day! We’ve been asked to remind you that certain colours go awfully quickly, so if you have your eyes on a special pink rose or a multicolored rainbow rose you should pre-order them soon.” Harrison sighs dreamily. “Are you going to the Rose Dance, Drew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Drew scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I think it’s a gross overly cheesy and faux sappy event that I’ve made a point to never go to in my entire career at Sidlesmith.” Harrison is looking at him, with his huge dewy eyes. Jesus. “And even if I did want to go to the dance! I don’t have anyone to go with. It’s not exactly the type of place where you can go without a date, or even just as friends!” Drew continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that’s true.” Harrison concedes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Exactly. …Are… you going to the Rose dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That depends, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends on what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I can find Cal in time to ask him to go with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew’s heart stops. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was thinking about what you said earlier. About going out and finding your trope, and searching for your meet-cute. So I’m going to go out and try to find mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to be misinterpreting something. “What? Your meet-cute. With Cal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Then he can be my Sidlesmith Valentine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh no. Drew did hear that correctly. It’s just absolutely insane. He presses the point, “Cal. Calamum Nomen. Of the column </span>
  <em>
    <span>Humans of Sidlesmith</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The Cal who uses a pseudonym and doesn’t share any of his personal information on his column?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right.” Harrison is still smiling at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew gapes at him. “How do you even know that he likes boys?” Which of all the things to say feels like the most stupid when it comes out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sure he does. Anyway, you’re trying to change my mind by being all rational and Drewy and I don’t appreciate it. I’m doing this. I’m going to find Cal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right then,” Drew says. “Sure.” He feels faint. Or sick. Maybe both. Definitely both. “Good luck with that then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison beams at him. Thankfully, that’s the end of their show, so Drew doesn’t have to think of anything more to say that isn’t completely incriminating. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Drew says after Harrison commits several recording sins by banging on the table, insisting that they should come up with a catch phrase for their show, and introducing himself as Jagger. It is, unfortunately, extremely endearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am! I have a Sidlesmith Valentine plan. Want to see it?” Harrison answers. He leans in close to Drew, begging him to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just to be clear, by Sidlesmith Valentine, you mean your date for the Rose Dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your date who is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cal.” Harrison lets out a dreamy sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew smiles, even as his heartbeat picks up. He hopes it isn’t audible through the mic, it’s certainly loud enough in his own ears. He should not be encouraging this, but Harrison just looks so lovely when he’s passionate about something that Drew can’t help but want to hear him talk. “Go on then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison brandishes a slim notebook. Drew takes it, turning it over in his hands. “Oh, it’s... a Moleskine. It’s… A very organised, detailed Moleskine. It’s... colour-coded. This is quite the plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a bullet journal. My Capture Cal Bullet Journal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, God.” Drew says, faint. Once again aghast. Cold water freezing every vertebra in his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in bullet journals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not some kind of myth or fable. I don’t have to “believe in” them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just that I know you’re bad at believing in things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha. Funny. Look, I don’t suppose you and your bullet journal have thought about the undeniable truth that Cal might not want to be found?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison pouts at him. Honest to god sticks out his lower lip and *</span>
  <em>
    <span>pouts.</span>
  </em>
  <span>* “It’s true love, Drew. Of course he wants to be found. By the right person of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew bites down on a bout of hysterics. “Oh, it is, is it? True love? With a man that you don’t even know? You’re sure you’re the right person?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you actually read Humans of Sidlesmith?” Harrison asks. It’s only barely a non sequitur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I read the school paper,” Drew hedges, “sometimes my eyes happened to pass the Humans of Sidlesmith column.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should read it,” Harrison says his eyes bright and earnest, “the last Humans of Sidlesmith column was about taking chances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cal said it can be scary to take chances. It can be the scariest thing you think you’ve ever done, or it can be so exciting that you end up paralyzed by all the options. But he says that it’s important to look for them, and take them when you can. Because sometimes the best thing can happen from them, and you never know if you’re ever going to get a chance like that to happen again. So it’s always important to treasure them when they do happen, and take them. If you never take any chances, never wonder about all the good things that could happen from it, you spend all your time alone and scared, wondering about the opportunity that you’ve missed. So even if it all goes horribly wrong, and it turns out to be a terrible decision it’s still good that you took it at all. It’s important to not be sad. It’s better to look right at the thing you want, and leap for it. Chances are good; Cal said so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is horrible, Drew decides, this may be in fact be the worst thing that has ever happened to him. His own words are being used against him. What’s he supposed to say? That he knows who Cal is and he definitely doesn’t want to be found? Be a hypocrite and tell Harrison that actually chances are some of the worst things that can ever happen to a person? No. He really can’t do that. If he does it’d make Harrison sad and he cannot let that happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. If Cal said so. Who am I to argue with the great Cal?” Drew says instead, with the sort of internal self defacing that makes his words come out laced with poison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison sticks his nose in the air. “Don’t mock Cal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not mocking Cal.” He laughs, just a touch shrilly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then, don’t mock me.” Harrison answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not mocking anyone. You’re right, Cal has a point. If you don’t try to be open to possibilities you’ll never know what surprises might be in store for you. Life is just one giant Disney song waiting to happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t have an argument, but it’s a close thing. The rest of the show goes off the topic, thankfully, until Harrison brings it up again this time asking for people to phone in if they know anything. There is a horrible pause where Drew wonders how much he’s managed to reveal and if someone is going to tell Harrison his secret identity on-air. Thankfully, Sidlesmith continues to be completely unaware about the fact that Drew and Cal are in actuality the same person. Instead Harrison is inundated with texts from people telling him about their own Sidlesmith valentines. It’s adorable, Harrison coos, that’s even more adorable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew is absolutely fucked.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>That weekend, despite initial misgivings, Drew does what he does every weekend. He goes out and People watches around the campus, gathering information for his column. No one pays him any mind. He’s just one of several Sidlesmith students to sit in various corners pen in hand, notebook in the other, or a laptop balanced on their legs, studying for some subject or another. Drew’s subject just happens to be different than everyone else’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes sure to look out for squirrels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As usual, Drew spots no less than four couples being overly dramatic as he settles down at his usual spot at a park bench under the shade of a flourishing oak tree. This is Sidlesmith after all. Drew might hate the place but he can’t deny that it gives him ample fodder for his column. Notebook open, he doodles various phrases as he watches them, letting the part of himself that he normally puts under lock and key out so he can imagine that not everyone is having a horrible love life. It doesn’t take long before he has some kind of outline, this one on the theme of looking before you leap. It’s a little reactionary, but maybe if he polishes enough and puts it far enough in the future no one will notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Stranger,” Drew hears through the fog of creativity. He has to scramble to cover his notebook before Harrison can read the damning words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” He says. He smiles at Harrison as he sits down on the bench next to him, even if it means that he definitely isn’t going to get any more work done today. He’s wearing a warm sweater that looks so soft that Drew wonders if he’d even feel the stitches in the knit if he touched it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess what I’m doing here,” Harrison says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew narrows his eyes a bit, giving  the man a considering look, remembering a conversation that is two or three weeks old now. “Accosting random strangers in the hopes that they’ll be Cal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Harrison beams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, go on then “accost” some strangers, the campus is still full of them. You’re barking up the wrong tree asking me.” He surreptitiously slides his Humans of Sidlesmith notebook back into his bag, pulling out the much less interesting notes from his required credit general sciences class. Just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” Harrison says, “anyway you’re not a stranger so you can’t be one of the strangers I’m accosting. If I… am accosting you at all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Drew says after he pauses just long enough to make Harrison fidget. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mean, Drew!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Drew says, laughing a little.  “So how is the Cal hunt going? Made any more pages in your bullet journal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Harrison says airily, but I have time before the dance. I’ll find that man eventually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem very sure about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s my trope isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew shrugs. Better that than to point out that even at Sidlesmith you can’t just engineer the trope you want. At least he assumes you can’t. He doesn’t believe in any of the tropes, or the magic in the first place so he’s never really thought through the logistics of them. “Good luck,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison gives him a withering look. For Harrison, anyway. “You don’t have to do that, you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretend that you believe that what I’m doing isn’t really stupid. I already know that you think I’m being ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. I don’t—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drew,” Harrison admonishes, “if I didn’t want to hear you being your usual pessimist self, I wouldn’t have sat next to you. Tell me what you really think. Give me the dose of bitter fresh air that you’re clearly thinking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew squirms. “Well, what if at the end of all of this you find Cal and he’s not the person you think he is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He will be,” Harrison says, clearly not listening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew snaps his book shut, turning towards him, “No, think about it. What do you really know about him? Just pretty words in a column that’s already overly saccharine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison puts a hand on his heart. “I know who he is. I can feel his soul.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what’s he like?” Drew demands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a man who clearly wants the best for people. He’s very observant, widely read, he has a fondness for old books and films but he’s not afraid to use a contemporary metaphor if the situation calls for it. Cal doesn’t have magic of his own but he’s a fan of the spells other people can do. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to get it. But I think he’s really shy since he’s using a pseudonym. Maybe he’s afraid of getting hurt or disappointing people if they knew his real name. Which is a silly thing to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew deflates. He drops his gaze to the path where the roots of the oak tree have split the concrete. He traces aimless patterns in the dirt. He wishes he was like that. If he was then Harrison would love him instead of a carefully constructed reflection. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to be disappointed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You are, Drew thinks, you’re sitting right next to him and you really think he’s a pessimistic asshole who can’t keep his opinions to himself. Of course he can’t share that with Harrison. That would ruin everything. And yet, there’s a part of him that wants to. He wonders if that’s the romantic side of him, or the pessimistic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re right,” Harrison says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Drew starts, realizing that he’s been lost in his own thoughts for longer than he had intended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know Cal as well as I want to. It’s hard to get to know someone through the columns. Especially when those columns aren’t even personal. But I want to. I want to take this chance, I want to know who the real Cal is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew keeps his eyes on his closed book and hopes that he isn’t revealing anything through his body language.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his notebook again, clicking the top of his pen. “You better get searching, then. If you want to invite him to the dance at least.” Drew says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison laughs and Drew’s heart turns over in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes home, opens up his laptop and writes stream of consciousness for what feels like a few minutes but when he looks up at the clock again it’s been hours. The sky outside his window is dark,the only source of light comes from the dorm opposite. The windows are close enough together that it’s easy for Drew to see inside the room, and the wall that prominently displays a poster to a movie that he doesn’t care about. It’s some rom-com, judging by the fonts and the adoring expression on the heroine’s face as she gazes at the leads bare chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew looks down at the completed article. He reads it over, correcting typos, tightening up sentences. And halfway through he gives up and just stares at it and put his head in his hands. He can’t publish this. This is a manifesto of the ways he loves Harrison. This is in fact, screaming from the rooftops exactly who he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hits delete, ruthless, until he is once again staring at a blank page.And then he just laughs hysterically, because he has a deadline in four days and nothing to show for it. Not to mention the schoolwork currently burning a hole in his bag. He doesn’t have time to be romantic mess. Even if he was good at it. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before the next show, Hal corners Drew and Harrison, asking if they’d be willing to do a show during the Sockhop. Apparently the school wants someone to commentate on the goings on for the rest of the school and town’s population who won’t be going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Drew says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the same time as Harrison says, “we’d love to do that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew turns on him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison ignores him, instead smiling earnestly at Hal and repeating, “of course we’ll present the dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal nods, like that’s the end of the discussion. Drew holds up his hands, frantically trying to stop this before it balloons out of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Wait, if you’re doing a show during tomorrow’s dance you can’t actually go to it. You have realised that haven’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison blinks at him. Clearly revealing that he, indeed, has not thought about this. “You’ll be alright if I play hooky for a few minutes, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No, I will not be alright. I would be alright if I didn’t have to go anywhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>near </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Rose Dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren't going to go at all?” Harrison asks clearly aghast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have anyone to go with. Even if I wanted to go into the first place. Which I don’t. Haven’t we talked about this before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure there are lots of people who want to go to the dance with you,” Harrison presses. “I thought you might have changed your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I have changed my mind?” Drew asks. He shakes his head. “So far none of these mystery people have made themselves known to me. The point’s moot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because you’re so pessimistic. You scare people away before they have the chance to even think about asking you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew grumbles. “We getting off topic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t host the Rose Dance, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can too host.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harrison.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can!” Harrison insists. He crosses his arms, looking up at Drew. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And! It’s our brand isn’t it?” He looks so endearing Drew is nearly ready to give him anything and everything he’d asked for. Nearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see what the dance has to do with our advice text-in show.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our </span>
  <em>
    <span>romantic </span>
  </em>
  <span>advice show. What better way to reward our listeners for all their strife by giving them the best listening experience of the most anticipated date for all our lovely couples?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal says, blandly, “it would do wonders for your numbers.” Because she knows just how to hurt him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s Harrison’s puppy dog eyes that make Drew finally, after a lot of internal moaning at himself for being such a pushover for a cute face, agree to the torture of actually going agreeing to this nonsense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison beams, his entire face lighting up, and Drew can’t help but smile back like an idiot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to regret this, you know,” he tells Harrison later. “You’re working when everyone else is going to have fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hush,” Harrison says. He’s still smiling as he fiddles with his microphone in the recording booth. “I’m sure Cal will be very understanding about my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Drew says. “Live in 3…” and he puts it all out of his head for the rest of the night. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he gets home, Drew stops in the middle of his dorm room and swears. His bag falls from suddenly nerveless fingers. Harrison is going to the Rose Dance. Harrison is going to be reporting at the Rose Dance. Harrison is going to be at the Rose Dance, waiting for a rose that won’t ever come, in front of a live audience and when he cries into a microphone for the entire school to hear him it is going to be all Drew’s fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no way to make that better. There’s absolutely no way to fix this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew fantasizes briefly about catastrophic tech failures or weather events that make either reporting on the event, or the Rose Dance itself impossible. It’s a short dream. Harrison would be disappointed by those things and unfortunately everything Drew does these days tends to center around how much Harrison will like it. There’s really only one way he can make this better. But it means compromising everything that he’s worked so hard to achieve no matter how the chips fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is it worth it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew picks up his bag, and finds the flyer from the florists that he had absently taken from an overzealous classmate that morning. Red, orange, pink, and black roses dominate the page with a warning to only buy yellow if you know what you’re doing. There’s a coupon for twenty percent off if he buys in the next week. He puts the flyer on his desk, and sits down, head in his hands. He has to write today, and do homework too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to fix this. Before it’s too late. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Wow.” Harrison says, the day of the Rose Dance. Drew blinks at him, suddenly self conscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just didn’t expect you to look so nice in your suit,” Harrison says, “Or to be here before me. I thought I was going to be very early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to set up the sound equipment,” Drew explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right. I forgot about all that stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because you’re not a broadcasting major.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison smiles at him. “No, of course not. That’s what I have you for isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew coughs. He can feel the blush spreading along the bridge of his nose. Harrison makes a soft cooing sound, bumping his shoulder against Drew’s. He’s smiling, so softly that Drew wants to kiss it off his lips. He hurriedly glances away, setting his sight on the so-called festivity around him. There’s a part of Drew that must admit that it is a bit romantic, and if he did have someone to go with, he might have even enjoyed being here. But as it is, the red and white streamers along the walls and ceiling, along with the muted—intimate—lighting just makes him feel awkward. Harrison looks amazing in his own suit though. All bright colours from his violet hair and shirt popping against the black fabric of his jacket and trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what do we do for the hour before it all starts?” Harrison asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sound check,” Drew tells him, and Harrison laughs at his dry delivery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will it take that long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Longer,” Drew says. “So much longer than you expect it to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison makes a little giggling laugh and lets Drew lead him to the corner that the school has graciously given them to use as a staging area. It’s out of the way of the rest of the venue, but close enough for Drew and Harrison to be able to see what’s going on and for people to come up and say hi. Not that anyone will, regardless of the gift bags stuffed under the table. At the moment everything’s still a bit of a mess; cables coiled every which way and tangling as soon as Drew looks away from them. The mic’s aren’t set up at the right heights for either standing or sitting, and who knows if they’re attached to the mobile broadcasting units at all or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Harrison says, quiet as he looks at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Drew asks, but he already knows what’s caught Harrison’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the right side of the table—where Harrison usually sits—is a purple rose, and a sealed cream envelope with Harrison’s name written on it in flowing calligraphy. Harrison walks past Drew, picking up the rose with shaking fingers. Drew carefully averts his gaze, fiddling with the microphone set up for longer than is strictly required. He can’t look at Harrison. He’s sure as soon as he does everything will show on his face. He hears the ripping open of the envelope, then Harrison mumbling as he reads the card inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dear Harrison, of the radio show Kaleidetrope. When I heard that you were looking for me to invite to the dance I was so very charmed and flattered. I was so happy to hear that my words in what is ultimately a very small piece of the school newspaper resonated so much with you. However, I cannot reveal my identity to you and the rest of the school. Please accept this rose, as a what might have been, if it weren’t for the circumstances in my way. I am not nearly as good as you think I am. I’m not the man that you clearly wish me to be. I wish I was. Please stop searching for me; I’m sure your happy ending is with another person. Look for them, and I hope to hear you tell the world one day that you’ve found the one on your radio show. Fondly, Cal…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Oh Drew,” Harrison says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Drew turns to look at him, heart lurching as he takes in Harrison’s stricken expression. “Are you okay? I thought you wanted a rose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did!” Harrison wails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’s the problem?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Harrison sniffs, wiping furiously at his eyes as he carefully cradles his rose in his other hand. “I didn’t expect it to actually happen. Or happen like this. I love it, I wish that he could actually be here but just getting a rose at all is so much more than I should’ve expected. Do you think it would be weird for me to dance with the rose later? Do you think he’s still here? Maybe if I look hard enough I’ll find him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you should obey what’s written in the card,” Drew answers, voice dry, “Doesn’t it say to not look for him? I’m sure I heard you mumbling something along those lines earlier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right.” Harrison sighs again. He sits down at his seat, looking up at Drew with eyes that are still watery with tears. “Okay. I’m ready for sound check now. Let’s do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me adjust your mic first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Rose Dance goes as well as can be expected. People do actually show up to their table and by the end of the night Drew has faces to the names of most of their regular texters. None of them look like how he imagined them in his head which just goes to show that humanity is always much weirder in person than in anyone’s imagination. Especially when said humanity is actually possibly an alien from another universe. They even give out a giftbag or two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew is determined not to pay any attention to it, but he can’t help but notice that Harrison periodically plays with the purple rose from Cal. His eyes sweep across the hall, lingering on people as he rubs his thumb along the stem of the rose. He’s obviously searching for his mystery man, even though Drew-as-Cal has told him to let him go. Of course Harrison would be too stubborn for a note written in a card to work on him. Anxiety churns in his stomach. And Drew cannot work out why. It must be the dance, reporting in front of a live audience that he can actually see. Surrounded by things that Drew tolerates in small doses but not in the avalanche that is the Sockhop. It’ll go away when the evening comes to a close, Drew is sure. He just has to wait till then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to wait a long time. The stragglers of the dance end up stretching out the evening into the early hours of the morning and as much as Drew finds that he enjoyed the experience, all Harrison’s fault of course, he dearly wishes that they would just leave and go back to their own homes already. Don’t they have things to do in the morning? Work? Homework? No classes of course because this is Sidlesmith but something. Surely. Eventually the last love-lorn couple vacates the premises, Drew announces to whatever listenerbase they still have that the Rose Dance is officially at an end, and he and Harrison start packing all the equipment away. Drew does most of the work. Harrison is too busy staring at his card and rose to be much help, even if Drew did trust him with the more finicky pieces of gear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he was there?” Harrison asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew grunts, in the middle of wrangling cables. “Who was here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cal, of course.” Harrison doesn’t wait for an answer, talking to himself more than to Drew. “He probably wasn’t after he left his rose. It’s like you said, there’s no point in staying at a dance if there’s no one to dance with. Though, maybe he did have someone to dance with, and that’s why he turned me down. Someone else already found their happy ending with him… Yeah. I bet that’s it. I’m an idiot for thinking that I really had a chance. I probably scared him off and his card was just to get me off his back…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harrison,” Drew says very quietly, standing up. Half of him demanding to know what the rest of him thinks it’s doing. “Can I have your rose please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you want it?” Harrison asks, bringing the rose closer to his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find out soon. Don’t worry, I’m not going to break it or anything like that. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison holds out his hand, rose proffered between two of his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew takes it, cradling it gently, staring down at the purple petals instead of at Harrison’s face with it’s too-earnest eyes. “I don’t believe in magic,” he starts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison laughs shortly. He doesn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe in a lot of things,” Drew continues after a shuddering breath. He wishes that he’d thought to plan this out ahead of time, but that would have required him to know that he was doing this beforehand</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” Harrison says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew grimaces. “Please, just listen, please.” He takes another breath, gathering his words together, trying to get everything in the right order. “I don’t believe in meet-cutes, or in soulmates, or in happy endings, and I definitely don’t believe in the Sidlesmith magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… But I do believe in… I…” Oh fuck. “I don’t like Samoas.” He says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison squawks. “What do you mean you don’t like Samoas?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew looks up at him then, smiling, heart pounding in his chest. “I just like the way you smile when I eat them. You’re so damn delighted about it, and I can’t help myself. I don’t know, maybe I do like Samoas now. I’m not sure at this point. And—And I was going to write that down. In my column, in the school newspaper. I was going to publish that, along with the fact that you make me think about very silly things. Like the dandelion game. Or—or how you’d walk through a puddle. Or how I always feel seen around you. In a way that no one else has ever managed and you make me want to, to look every person I meet in the eyes so maybe they get a tenth, a tiny reflection, of the connection I feel whenever you look at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, but mostly I just think about kissing you. And what you’d do if I did it. If you’d pull me closer, or push me away. If you like it at all, if you’d take the lead or let me, or…” Drew coughs. He fiddles with the rose, holding it back out to Harrison. “But, really the point of this was… I’m Cal. That day you sat next to me on the bench under the tree, and you joked about accosting random strangers with notebooks in the hopes that they were Cal, and I said you were barking up the wrong tree, well. I lied. It’s me. It’s always been me. And—And I don’t believe in magic, I really don’t but you make me want to. You make me want to believe, Harrison, so if you want to—I don’t know. Go for coffee someday? I would really like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison doesn’t take the rose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison stares at Drew and he opens his mouth and the only thing that comes out is a sob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Oh fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you want me to keep the rose? I’ve ruined it for you now, haven’t I? I knew that you’d be—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Drew,” Harrison says, right before he lands a kiss solidly on Drew’s lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harrison tastes a bit like salt from the tears that haven’t stopped flowing down his face, but he’s a fantastic kisser. Eager and passionate and Drew can feel himself melting into it. He laces his hands carefully around Harrison’s back, aware of the rose that he doesn’t want to crush, but unable to hold off touching Harrison at all. There’s not a lot of talking for awhile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad it was you,” Harrison says after. “I knew it was you. I—I hoped it was you.” He tucks himself closer to Drew, swaying the two of them slightly to a beat that only he can hear. “Thank you for my rose, Drew.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having my dance,” Harrison giggles. “Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew shakes his head slightly. “Of course.” He tips Harrison slightly, making Harrison giggle even more breathlessly. The hall doesn’t get cleared out until tomorrow, so the two of them dance around the discarded flowers, paper streamers and solo cups left on the floor. The two of them laugh all the way through it, when they’re not talking up a storm. Drew’s feelings bubbling things in his chest that escape as endearments and little inside jokes that just breed when Harrison answers with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spend a lot of time kissing. It’s a miracle that they aren’t caught when the maintenance crew come to lock up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drew walks Harrison to his own dorm, and then circles around half the campus to get to his own, a sappy smile on his face that he’s only saved from having to hide by the fact that no one else is up at this hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next Kaleidetrope show, Harrison introduces himself as Drew’s boyfriend. When asked about Cal, Harrison just smiles enigmatically into the mic, and says that it’s not his secret to tell. Drew laces their fingers together under the table, and opens his phone as they wait for the avalanche of questions to arrive.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I have had this story in my head since... oh the first time I listened to the podcast? It's now been 2.5 listens since then. </p><p>Thanks to Bismuth for Betaing, and Witchpuppy for cheering me on and introducing me to the fandom. 💛💖💙</p></blockquote></div></div>
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